


Found Sounds

by RealmoftheSnowQueen



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, treebros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-27 06:12:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RealmoftheSnowQueen/pseuds/RealmoftheSnowQueen
Summary: Evan Hansen has gotten very good at lying to everyone. Jared might just be right--Connor Murphy's death may be the best thing that's happened to him, though he'd never admit it. He never thought things could turn out like this. He also never thought Connor Murphy might still be alive.Connor Murphy stirs from the coma his parents have been hiding from everyone. If anyone might catch on to Evan's web of lies, it's the boy wrapped in them all.





	1. Lies

The worst part was that it got easier as it went on. The lies flowed at this point, spilling out of him like they had been dammed up in his mind until the leak sprouted: from the suicide note to the apple orchard to that perfect day to the emails. He even told Zoe--Zoe Murphy, sitting on her dead brother’s bed--all the things he thought about her as if Connor himself had told him. As if Connor Murphy hadn’t hung himself after just talking to Evan that one day.

  
It almost frightened Evan how easy it all was. But it didn’t frighten him enough to stop. Days slipped into weeks slipped into a month and it continued, with his family friend Jared to supply more emails (though under constant supervision under Evan) and with the Murphys to supply more support than he ever dreamed possible. He hadn’t taken his medicine in so long. He hadn’t needed it. The bits that anxiety had pecked clean off the bone seemed to regrow and heal.

  
The only thing out of the ordinary was Connor. Not the Connor he knew left them, but the Connor that chopped his way out of Evan’s mind like Athena birthed from Zeus. Once he lied in bed, weighing the consequences of that letter and wondering why he didn’t follow Connor to explain more. He asked himself just how much of Connor’s death was on his hands, and noticed the regret that held him dissipate. His Connor, the one who encouraged him and helped steer him, let him know it wasn’t Evan’s fault. No more than anyone else’s. No more than anyone else was at fault for Evan’s own summer mishap. Connor comforted him and understood him and always, always encouraged.

  
The day Evan went to get off his cast changed it all. Heidi picked him up from school, gave him a ride, kissed his cheek, and left him there to wait. The chair was uncomfortable, and the room cold. The voices around him were too loud to ignore and too quiet to understand, and he felt that sweat on his palms begin. He was wiping his hands on his pants when a voice he recognized spoke up.

  
“Evan! What a miracle it is to see you!” Cynthia said, running up to greet him. He stood, trying to seem less awkward than he felt. “What on earth are you doing here? Have you heard the news about Connor?”

  
He lifted his cast and waved slightly. “It’s about time I got this taken off. They just want to check one more time and I should be good to go. My mom said they might let me keep the cast, you know, for the Connor Project? That’s the thing I emailed you about this morning. But, you know that, since you were just saying…” He trailed off at the end, hoping she’d jump in so he wouldn’t continue to ramble.

  
“Yes, that was so, so sweet of you kids! Such an amazing idea, and such effort. I knew it would help, and I couldn’t have been more right!” She wrapped her arms around him in excitement, and he squeezed back with one arm while holding his cast to the side. It would be a good while before he lost that habit, even with his arm healed, he thought.

  
“Really, it’s nothing. We just wanted to make something in his memory. Really kept him in everyone’s thoughts and help other people like him, ya know. And Jared’s got the fundraiser going, and Alana’s helping with so much because she’s so good at everything she tries--it’s just going to be amazing. I promise. We’re really keeping his spirit alive.”

  
Cynthia’s smile only widened, but her eyes were wet with tears. Larry walked up behind her and placed his arm around her, kissing the crown of her head. For the first time, Evan saw her lean into Larry’s chest. They stood together, instead of one rebuking the other’s touch as they often did.

  
“I have to hand it to you, Cynthia. I didn’t believe. I didn’t believe and you actually helped this happen.”

  
Cynthia shook her head. “It wasn’t me. It was Evan! Evan and his friends, and his letters. All of it.”

  
Evan tilted his head, feeling all too much like a confused puppy.

  
“Have you told him yet?” Larry stage-whispered.

  
Cynthia shook her head. “Evan. He’s going to be alright.”

  
Evan shrunk back a bit, almost laughing in shock before tilting his head to the other direction. “What are you talking about?”

  
Larry let go of his wife and stepped forward, ruffling a hand through Evan’s hair. Evan forced himself not the flinch. “We didn’t want to get your hopes up. Hell, I didn’t have my hopes up. It’s been so much of nothing, and we just thought we already lost him--”

  
“Connor’s dead,” Evan coughed out. “Connor’s dead. What are you trying to tell me? He hung himself!” This time, he flinched. He was so much louder than he thought he’d be. He was so much more confused.

  
“He hung himself,” Cynthia said softly, as if trying to calm an animal. “He hung himself and he was unresponsive. We were distraught, Evan. We thought we had lost him, and there were so many times we almost did. But I couldn’t pull the plug. I just couldn’t let him.” Her eyes flickered towards her husband for just a moment. Regret? Resentment? Larry simpered and took a step back. “It was a miracle, Evan. Everyday I came here with those letters, and those nurses were probably laughing behind my back. They told me no amount of positive thinking, no amount of prayer could help him. They said he was as good as gone, and we lived like he was. But I still came here every day. And I read him your letters.”

  
Evan could almost taste the silence. There were voices in this waiting room before, he knew, and somehow they had vanished and left only silence, heavy on his tongue.  
“My boy pulled through,” Larry said, nodding and patting his fist against his chest. “He pulled through it. They think he could wake up any day.”

  
“And of course the second we walk out with good news--the very second! I find you. You saved my boy’s life. It’s a miracle he’s still here. And it’s a miracle you’re here. I couldn’t have dreamed of anything more. I want you there, Evan. When he wakes up. I want you to go and tell him about the Connor Project, just like you told me. So he knows he’s not alone at all. He’s got you. Let’s go see if there’s any change!” With that she reached forward for his good hand, pulling him with her towards what he presumed must be Connor’s room. Larry trailed behind him, effectively blocking any escape. He looked down at the cast he was meant to have cut off, the black block letters as bright as the day they were written: CONNOR.

  
And in that moment, he really wished he still had his medicine.


	2. Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan confronts the hospital room where Connor lies. The Murphys do what they do best: argue.
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not a doctor. All the medical science in this fic is based off that episode of Full House where Michelle gets amnesia after like... a horse accident? Whatever. This is fiction, and over-dramatic fiction at that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll likely combine the first few pre-Connor chapters into one once we get the ball rolling. I've been keeping it short so that I won't lose motivation.

Unless you suffered a panic attack before, you probably wouldn’t know how it really feels. This is what it’s for: back back in the day, when we rocked the bottom of the food chain, we needed just a bit more self preservation than we have now. Sure, there were still Darwin Award candidates, but there were also some people who knew when to run. Those people survived. And those instincts survived. And so when you start that little ember of panic in you, your body might think, oh HELL NO. We worried? What is it, a saber-tooth? We ain’t fighting with no saber-tooth today! 

And you panic. Your blood pounds in your ears and your heart rate increases and you think, this is it. This is dying. But you don’t die. Your body just acts like you’re in fatal danger and need to escape, and instead of dying you just collapse in tears and maybe puke in the middle of 8th grade science class. And that’s a panic attack.

Evan Hansen, of course, was having a panic attack. This was not some grand, new occurrence for him. He knew the drill. The sudden deafness, and racing heart, and sweaty palms, oh yes the very sweaty palms. If anything, he was glad Mrs. Murphy had grabbed his arm instead of his hand. Though, maybe a sweaty palm would have slipped out of her grip. Maybe that’s the evolutionary adaptation that passed on to him.

He would’ve made a great caveman, maybe. Lived longer. Certainly longer than he would now, because every inch closer to Connor Murphy’s hospital room instilled such fear into Evan that he was certain that he was going to die. If not from the shock alone, then from the aftermath.

Deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths. Nope. Panicked, shallow breathes. Panting, like a small dog cornered in a heat wave.

“I don’t really think I should do this, Mrs. Murphy,” he sputtered out, “I have an appointment I can’t miss, and this is kind of a huge shock for me and I think if he wakes up any time soon it’s going to be a huge shock for him and I think that maybe it would be better if this just wasn’t happening right now because I just really want my cast off…” Sure, he was used to getting ignored. This was not new either. The panic boomed. “If he wakes up and gets a shock and then falls back in a coma I don’t know what we’d do then. Honestly, I don’t know that much about comas to begin with--do they get amnesia? Like in movies where they hit their heads and--”

Larry clapped his hands onto Evan’s shoulders. “We’re here. Calm down, son. It’s going to be ok. We’re just going to talk to him a bit and see if he stirs at all.” From her purse, Cynthia produced some paper: the emails.

“Would you read?” she asked, eyes wide and pleading. “Please? I thought, if me reading them caused a change, surely hearing your own words--”

“I’m really not okay with this, or okay at all. I’m not doing okay. Not okay,” Evan said, stumbling over his own words. He wasn’t sure when he started shaking, but it was noticeable now as he tried not to fall back into Mr. Murphy.

“Did you really think this was going to work?” Zoe spat. Evan turned suddenly, finally noting her presence. She sat in the only chair in the room. And she glared. “Did you think we’d be okay with this? That you could just lie?” 

The noise, his heart, the shaking. All suddenly still.

“Tell them, Evan! They can’t just spring this on us! Convincing me for weeks that my brother is dead and then just, oh, hey, I was only joking, he’s here in some sort of… some sort of purgatory! This is disgusting!” 

Larry sighed as if this conversation was ongoing and tedious. Like Zoe’s world wasn’t shattering more each day. “We didn’t want you to get your hopes up, kids. We didn’t want him to pass and for us just to have dragged it out.” 

“You didn’t want us to know because you wanted to pull the plug and she wouldn’t let you! Well guess what. You should just pull it already!” 

This wasn’t the first time Evan had heard the Murphys fight, but it was rare that Zoe played such a major role. Usually, Mr. and Mrs. Murphy performed the part of disenchanted suburban couple, with Zoe tucked in the middle. Today they stood stalwart against her. He straightened. Tried to make himself steel. “I should go--” 

“Tell them! If he wanted to live through this, he wouldn’t have hung himself! Pull it!” Her hair fell in front of her face, but her eyes flashed so violently that for the first time Evan didn’t think of pushing the strays behind her ears. She spat fire, and he just wanted to get away.

“Why can’t you just be happy? He’s getting better! Everything is going to be fine now!” Mrs. Murphy yelled often, but she possessed a tendency to cry when she felt angry, so often people patronized her. Her words fell out of her mouth like shattering glass, as her brows furrowed and tears ran down her cheeks. 

“You’re upsetting your mother! Today was supposed to be a happy day!”

“Today was supposed to be a Wednesday! Not a ‘Surprise, your fucked up brother is back from the dead’ like some Romero film!” 

“I really should go, I should go--I have an appointment and--”

“You’re the worst! You’re the reason Connor wanted to die to begin with! He tried to leave me with you and right now I wish I were dead too! I wish we were both dead!” 

Evan never saw someone else have a panic attack before, but when Mrs. Murphy clutched her chest and released a deep sob he could see it in her. Larry’s face deepened in shades of red. Zoe’s eyes didn’t falter. 

Evan had to get out.

“I have to go,” he yelped, pulling away from Mr. Murphy before Larry began to yell. He felt like he was in the rising crescendo of a song, like it would all burst. “I have to go!” He tried to push by, reaching for the doorway. “Let me go!”

Larry placed a hand on his arm firmly. Evan turned, and with his other hand Larry pointed to the center of the room. The hospital bed. Connor’s eyes fluttered open, more gently than Evan had ever imagined the boy. His eyes flicked from his sister, to his mother, his father, and finally rested on Evan. He coughed a bit as he tried to speak. His voice was raspy.

“Who the fuck are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do comment, kudos, whatever you can! It lets me know I should keep going! The farther we go, the more we get of actual Evan and Connor interaction... There will be orchards.


	3. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's awake, the cast comes off, and the boys finally get to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, presented without proofreading. Sorry about that.

It took a moment for Evan to realize that, yes, Connor had known Evan before that first day of senior year. For a brief moment he thought he had been found out, solely because he and this living, flesh Connor had never met. They had, of course. It was not a big town. He knew Connor, the real, true Connor, since 1st grade. When they met briefly on the playground, when Connor had smuggled out the class pet--an iguana that was immediately recaptured. They shared a class group in 2nd grade, when Evan cried after breaking a crayon and Connor threw a printer after being told he wouldn’t have a turn taking home the class guinea pig. Little moments like this happened throughout the years. Even little moments that might lead to a suicide attempt.

Connor knew Evan. Or, he did before. 

“Sweetie, you know Evan? He’s your--” Cynthia let a pause hang in the air, and it did nothing to soothe Evan, “He said he was your best friend.” 

Evan gulped audibly. “I don’t know--” he stammered. “I just, I just thought I…”

Larry loosened his grip on Evan’s arm and patted him twice on the shoulder. Now would be a great time to escape, he thought, if he wasn’t utterly petrified. 

“It’s fine, Connor. He told us everything. About the orchard, the summer. That you guys were friends.” 

People began to file in. Two nurses and a doctor, all female, all with hair pulled back in tight buns. 

Connor whispered his own name. “Connor…” Like it was foreign on his tongue. Like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth and he couldn’t quite get it out right. 

“Connor, look at me,” Zoe commanded from her chair, even as the doctor began to talk to his parents and a nurse began to check Connor’s stats. “Do you know who I am?” 

He didn’t answer, but he looked down. A brunette nurse, whose high bun didn’t quite reach Evan’s chest, gently reached out at him. “Evan, we’ve been looking for you. You’re mom’s getting worried, and the doctor has other patients to see soon,” she whispered, tugging on his sleeve just enough to get Evan to turn. “I promise you’ll get to visit later, if the Murphys allow.”

“He’s family,” Larry said, barely glancing over at them as he and his wife walked over to look at the other nurse’s notes. “He can drop by anytime.” 

Evan’s nodded awkwardly, like it was more like a tic then agreement. “Let’s just go. Do you know where my mom is?” 

The nurse laughed softly and stepped out of his way. “You know Heidi,” she said. “Nothing could tear her away from her rounds. She said she’ll just give you a ride home.” 

“Right.” He avoided adding his thoughts: clearly she was real worried. As he left the room, the voices instead died down until only one voice could be heard. Connor’s. 

“Zoe?”

 

 

Taking the cast off would’ve normally made Evan fairly anxious, even though he had been so excited to get the damn thing off. He didn’t squirm or ramble or do anything he normally would. He sat very still. He stayed very quiet. And he thought about what on earth he was going to do about Connor.

What that right? Had Connor actually forgotten everyone? Evan definitely saw him when he couldn’t remember Zoe’s name, but had he then remembered? Did someone tell him? 

How long until he remembered Evan? How long until Connor looked at him and thought about pathetic Evan, whose stupid therapy letter made a boy hang himself. Evan, his arm branded with Connor’s name.

The cast removal didn’t take long. He watched the name crack and come off. He wanted it all over. They handed it back to him as he stretched his fingers.

“They said you might want to give it to the Murphy boy tonight,” his nurse explained. “They think it may help his memory.” 

 

 

Evan paced outside of Connor’s room. He didn’t come empty handed: he had the cast, some flowers, a balloon, a card, some nail polish he found in the little convenience store. He paced and paced, muttering a bit of the script he had in his head. 

Hey Connor, he’d say. Remember me? 

The next part could go two ways: No? I’m so sorry to hear that. I’m a friend from school and I just wanted to give you this and say hi. I should really go though, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to see you anytime soon. I have to leave forever. Tell your family.

Or: Yes? Please God, don’t destroy me.

Either way, he wasn’t looking forward to it. He stumbled as this items began to slip in his arms--damn sweaty hands! 

“Evan?” Connor called. Ask not for whom the bell tolls, Evan thought as he started his slow death march into the room. “It’s Evan, right? My parents said you might stop by? They’re over filling out paperwork. My… parents.” There it was again, that voice he made when the words he was saying tasted like chewing on tin. Like something didn’t quite make sense. “Parents.”

“Zoe?” Evan managed to spit out, as calm and charismatic as he could (which is to say, not).

“She left. I’m not sure where. She seemed mad? She seemed mad at everyone.” Connor kept staring, and Evan didn’t know where to look without looking the most awkward. “Flowers?” 

“Ah, yeah! I go you these. I got you all of this.” He walked over and placed the items on Connor’s bed. Connor rummaged through them.

“Flowers,” he said, again, and then nodded toward the nightstand already covered in flowers, “Bedside.” Evan placed the flowers next to the others, glimpsing quickly at the little notes on each that read “Mom”. How long had she been leaving them there for him? “Balloon. Cute.” Connor tied it to the rail of his bed, and Evan felt his face flush. He couldn’t have imagined Connor Murphy saying the word ‘cute’ with no hint of irony or sarcasm until that very moment. 

Connor picked up the card next. “Ah, it’s empty. Sorry, I didn’t have time to, ah, I didn’t… I didn’t know what to write.” Evan gestured a bit while he spoke. He never knew how to stop it, his arms just getting away from him. He let out a soft, awkward laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “I just didn’t know.”

Connor opened it regardless. “Get well,” he read. He placed it down on his lap again and looked Evan directly in the eyes. “Thank you.” 

Evan couldn’t hold the eye contact. He normally couldn’t anyway, but certainly not now. “I brought some nail polish! They didn’t have black, so--”

“Is this your cast?” Connor asked, lifting it up to the light. “That’s my handwriting? That’s my handwriting…” He stared at the cast now, holding it in both hands. “I have a mother, and a father, and I recognized Zoe even though it hurt my heart and she was so mad. I have flowers and I have a balloon and Evan and I have a cast with my handwriting. And this is what my handwriting looks like.” They stayed in silence for a beat as Connor ran his hands over the cast, tracing out the letters with his fingers. “Tell me about the orchard.”

“Th-the orchard?” 

“You told my parents everything about the orchard, and the summer. And about us. Tell me, too.” Connor looked up at Evan, and even though Evan had seen this boy he’d known since childhood on what Evan had believed to be the last day of his life, Evan had never seen Connor look so damn sad and pathetic. Eyes wide. Brow Furrowed. “Please?”

Evan looked down, biting into his lip as he thought about his choices. All Connor’s parents wanted was for Connor to remember. All Evan wanted was for Connor to stay the Connor he created. As far as Evan known, not only could they not have it both, no one was sure if they could have either. 

He pulled up the chair to the side of Connor’s bed, picking up the grey nail polish. “You like to wear black polish,” he said, taking his seat and grabbing hold of Connor’s hand. “It looks pretty--p-pretty cool. But the little store downstairs, I think they have nail polish to just make things feel more normal, as if being in a hospital is going to feel normal at all, ever, but they have nail polish there in the little store. And I thought maybe it would help… well, you feel normal. But they didn’t have black, so I got grey and I hope that you like it and uh… that it helps you feel more you. You know?” Connor didn’t answer as he screwed the cap and removed it, revealing the small brush dripping in polish. “Ah, I didn’t know… I’ve never seen this before. This is the first time I--well, I’m not going to be very good at this.” He started on Connor’s thumb, painting in broad, messy strokes. When he covered the nail (and a good deal of skin) in a layer of paint, he blew on it a moment and moved on to the next. 

Evan breathed deeply, ignoring the chemical scent. “When you were little, your parents would take you to an apple orchard…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, kudos, and all that jazz so that I know you want to see more! It means the world to me. Upcoming: Heidi, Jared, and memories returning!


End file.
